Eight O'Clock Conversations
by SirVacuumThe3rd
Summary: J: Hello? Who is this? S: Lestrade? J: No, this is John. Who are you? Click. Because having random chats with strangers over the phone isn't weird, and they weren't already leading weird lives. Eventual slash. Marked as T.
1. Chapter 1

J: Hello? Who is this?

S: Lestrade?

J: No, this is John. Who are you?

Click.

* * *

Sherlock hung up the phone quickly. How had he dialed the wrong number? He's a genius, he can't do that! He was sure he had dialed Lestrade's number.

Disregarded, trivial things.

Who was this John? What did he do? Where was he? Why didn't he know?

Good thing he had hung up on him, he didn't like the idea of having to socialize. Not even on cases did he like to, people were boring and useless in his mind, unless you wanted something from them.

Trivial, trivial.


	2. And Again

J: Hello? This is John.

S: Oh no, not you again.

J: What?! Who _are_ you?

S: Idiot.

Click.

* * *

John stared at the phone as he sat down on the couch tiredly. He did not appreciate being called an idiot. But he supposed that wasn't the most important thing to be worried about. No, he knew he should be worried about getting another call from this stranger who kept looking for someone else.

Who was this stranger? He kept running the question over and over again, trying and failing for an answer. It was too late for this, he thought.

He sighed and closed his eyes, letting his mobile fall to the couch. He didn't know who this mysterious caller was, but he decided he would just try and forget about it. He'd eventually go away.


	3. What Have I Gotten Into

J: Goddamn it! I'm not Lestrade or who ever the hell you're looking for! Stop calling me!

S: John?

J: ...how do you know my name?

S: You say it when you pick up. I'd thought you'd notice. Hmm, suppose not.

J: What's that supposed to mean?

S: Nothing at all. What do you do for a living, John?

J: Why the hell would I tell you? I don't even know you!

S: But I know you. Ex-army, am I right?

J: Wha...?

Click.

* * *

And it gets creepier, was John's first thought as his stranger hung up. What the hell?

He didn't know what to think. Yes, this intrigued him. It was the most eventful thing to have happened since he came back to London, but he was still a soldier. And things he didn't like we're being surprised and unknown enemies. But was he dangerous? Was his stranger some mass murderer? How did he know these things? Was he his next target?

"Oh god." John breathed out, pinching the bridge of his nose. What had he gotten into?

"Right. This is going to be interesting."


	4. Easy

J: You knew I was in the army. How?

S: Ah, not scared of a stranger who calls you every so often after all

J: Just tell me.

S: One, I looked up your number, which was _dauntingly_ easy. Two, you talk like your waiting for and or used to giving orders or information. Therefore, you've either been in the army or in a high position job. Judging on your temper I was tempted to go with the latter, but the background sounds through your line gave away your location as the not so _good_ side of town, deduced by the constant car horns and police sirens along with the creaking of your floors. Ergo, since no high up business man would ever live there, you've been in the army, have gotten out with no family and are living on the bad side of town, and I'm going with the fact that you've been shot in the leg, judging by your limp.

J: ...

S: John?

J:...that was brilliant.

S: That's not what people normally say.

J: What do they normally say?

S: Piss off.

J: Hahaha, I'm not surprised. I bet they do. But...you've gotten one thing wrong.

S: What? I've made every deduction possible.

J: I didn't get shot in the leg...I got shot in the shoulder.

S: Hmmm...very interesting. Good night.

J: What?! Who are you?

S: I'm Sherlock Holmes.

Click.

* * *

Sherlock smiled as he put down his phone. This John Watson peaked his curiosity very much. Oh so very much. He wasn't like all of the others, the stupid, ignorant people that surrounded everything; who lowered the IQ's of people and trained children to be stupid. God, how he hated them.

"Ever so much." He finished out loud, hopping up from his perch on the couch.

"Hmmm...I should do something. I already know some things about him, how much do I want to bet that he might look me up? How much, Sherlock? Hmmm! I'm going to guess he won't! Ha!" He smiled grandly as he bounded over to the window, grabbing his violin on the way and putting it on his shoulder.

"Oh," he said grinning wickedly as he put his bow to the strings. "This is going to be _fun_."


	5. Really?

J: Is this you?

S: Waiting for someone else's call?

J: ...no. Why?

S: No reason. Shot in the shoulder. Psychosomatic limp then?

J: Um...yes. That's what everyone keeps telling me.

S: Hmmm. You're not boring, John.

J: Right, um...thanks? If you don't mind me asking, what do you do most of the time? I mean when you're not working. You seem to know so much about me and yet I know not a jot about you.

S: Hmmm, classified. Have you not looked me up?

J: No? Umm...right. Okay then. Yeah, I'm going to head off to bed now.

Click.

J: Good night to you too, then.

* * *

"Dammit." Sherlock said, pushing his goggles off of his face, letting them hold his hair back. "Hasn't looked me up? Really? I would've thought he might, his personality certainly points to that outcome, at least by seventy eight percent. Hmmm."

He sighed and looked down at the head in front of him quizzically. "I suppose you wouldn't know about him? No? Thought not."

He sighed again, rubbing his face tiredly. "-and then it all gets shoved into a room for later." He muttered, snapping his goggles back on and grabbing the scalpel.


	6. News

J: Was that you today on the news?

S: Oh god, you actually watch that disgusting excuse for information?

J: Yes! Was it you? I don't know how many people are out their named Sherlock, but he sounded just as arrogant as you...

S: Take a random guess, you should _probably_ get it right. Or, you could be just as normal and stupid as every other person in this world! Use your brain for once!

J: ...are you okay?

S: I'm fine! Stupid pathetic people whom I despise dearly! Why can they not see the world that's right in front of their eyes?! Ugh!

J: Sherlock?

S: You too! Use your _brain_, John! Goddamn it!

Click.

* * *

John held the phone in the air long after the call ended, his posture stiff. What had just happened?

He had only just caught the news earlier that morning, his eyes catching on the caption at the bottom of the screen.

**_SHERLOCK HOLMES SOLVES SERIAL KILLER CASE, SAVES SEVEN_**

He gasped and he stopped, his eyes glued to the screen as a figure walked into the shot. He had curly dark hair and a scowl. He was wearing a long coat and was glaring harshly at all of the cameras as they each tried to get a view of him. He looked stunning. There was a smaller man behind him with greying hair pushing him through the crowd with a stern look on his face, but John could see his knuckles turning white.

_Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes! Do you have anything to say about the case being solved?!_

_Mr. Holmes! How do you feel now that you've aided in the arrest of one of London's most wanted?!_

_Mr. Holmes!_

_Mr. Holmes will not be answering questions at this time. I will hold a press conference to explain and answer any questions that arise later. _The grey haired man finished talking, looking sternly at the reporters before ushering the scowling man into a taxi.

John sat down on the floor in disbelief, staring at the screen as it changed to a talk show with two women.

"Can't be." He murmured, still staring blankly at the screen. "It can't be the same one."

Never, he thought. It couldn't be. But he seemed just as arrogant! No two people could have that same name and such a similar attitude. And with how much information he had found out about him from two phone calls, he wouldn't put it past him to be able to solve a serial killer case.

John closed his eyes, letting him think of this random stranger he had sort of befriended over the past few days. He'd ask him tonight if it was him.


	7. Disbelief

J: Hello?

S: It's me.

J: Sherlock?

S: Obviously.

J: Hey-

S: I know, rude, abrupt behaviour. I was just-

J: Hey. It doesn't matter. I heard what you did on the news. Eleven people saved? They're calling you a hero.

S: I'm not a hero. Don't call me one.

J: I didn't know-

S: See? Unlike you, I don't care about feelings or people, or anyone for that matter. So what if I saved eleven people? I was bored and cases relieve that boredom.

J: Well _I _thought it was amazing. Good _night. _

Click.

S: ...thank you.

* * *

Thought it was amazing?

No. Pulling his tail and getting his hopes up, that's what John was doing, nothing more. He couldn't believe him. He didn't think he was a hero, and never would. But, he also didn't think it was amazing, he had solved harder cases than this one. He could do _much_ better.

Yes, lives had been involved, so what? It's not like it mattered to him. It was just another variable to be put into the equation, another simple fact in the whole scheme of things. Nothing more, nothing less.

But, John.

_Well, __**I**__ thought it was amazing._

That hadn't made a smile appear on Sherlock's face, never. It also hasn't made his insides buzz with a tiny bit of joy, like when he solved a triple murder. No, none of that happened. He must be getting tired, that was it.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry about the long update! I got dreadfully busy and couldn't post for a bit! Double chapters per update again! I like reviews, even if they just tell me about what you ate for dinner! XD**


	8. Chase

J: Sherlock? Is that you? Are you okay? It's two in the morning. Sherlock?

S: Meet me outside quickly, down the street from your place on the corner. I'll be the one in the long coat. Hurry.

J: Sher-

Click.

J: Dammit.

* * *

John sat there in his nice warm bed, debating whether to go outside or not. Maybe if he stayed in bed he could claim it was a dream that Sherlock had asked him to come.

"Okay. Up and at 'em." John groaned, throwing off the blankets and swinging his feet down. He quickly got dressed, his mind racing at the prospect of finally meeting Sherlock. How would he act? Would he be the same off the phone? Would he be arrogant like on telly?

He stopped suddenly as his phone pinged.

**_Hurry up, John. -SH_**

John smiled, his doubts of meeting Sherlock falling off of him as he ran out the door.

* * *

"Hey..." John said awkwardly, talking to the back of a long coat. He hoped this was Sherlock, otherwise this could get even more awkward, fast.

The figure turned around to face him, his face cast in shadows. He expertly looked him up and down, his eyes taking in every detail about him without missing a single one.

"John, I presume?" The figure said, finally looking him in the eye, or what John thought could be his eyes in the dark.

"Yes." John said, mentally sighing that this wasn't some _other_ random stranger who could possibly hurt, abduct, or kill him. "Sherlock?"

"The one and only." He said with a smirk. He stepped out of the shadows and towered over John, his eyes glancing left and right. "Ready for a good chase, stranger of mine?"

John looked at him in confusion; _stranger of mine?_ He shook his head. "A chase?"

"Why else would I call you out of your home at two in the morning? We have a criminal to chase and I thought you could get a break from your boring, normal life and I'm terribly bored. What do you say?"

John stared at him for a few moments. Who was he? He knew he was a help to the Yard, but calling him at two am to chase a criminal, that was insane! Or, maybe not that crazy anymore...he was having random night conversations and getting to know him more. Was this really that crazy?

"John. Stop fooling yourself and being ignorant. I know you want to. Now, hurry up before he disappears." Sherlock snapped, grabbing John's elbow and starting to run with him down the street.

"What?!" John yelled over the wind rushing through his ears as he ran beside Sherlock, his brain focused only on keeping up with him.

"There!" Sherlock yelled, quickly grabbing John's hand and pulling him faster after the criminal.


	9. Can't Make It

J: ...that was amazingly brilliant last night.

S: The chase? Who knew you couldn't jump rooftops, I had the impression you could.

J: Hey! I could! Besides, it was great to finally _meet_ meet you. I had fun.

S: It _does_ keep the boredom away. And it was entertaining to have your companionship.

J: ...you're not very social, are you?

S: I do not encourage friends and I do not do sentiment.

J: What does that mean for me?

S: Pure difference, John. You're different.

J: Tha-

Click.

J: -nks...

* * *

Sherlock smiled as they scrambled up the fire escape, hot on the tail of the criminal. Who was exceptionally dumb in his mind, well, almost everyone was, but he was _extremely so_. He could take him down from here in say...about two minutes, maybe one if John didn't keep slowing him down.

He sprinted across the roof after the criminal, jumping easily as he came to the two meter gap in the roofs. He watched as the criminal twisted his ankle as he tried to run after landing, Sherlock taking this chance and quickly holding him down, using some zip ties he kept in his pocket to make-shift handcuff him.

"John, grab my phone." Sherlock said, not looking up as he zip tied the struggling captive beneath him.

"John?" He looked up to see John still on the other roof, shuffling anxiously as he watched Sherlock stare at him for a few moments.

"We'll hurry up then!" Sherlock yelled.

"I can't!" John yelled back.

"Fine, do it myself then." Sherlock mumbled, grabbing his phone and texting Lestrade with a sigh.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so I only put one chapter up tonight because the next one is angsty and I don't want to post it yet! Good luck for reading it soon! **


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